


the way it goes

by sleepinnude



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1518 coda, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Coda, Episode: s15e18 Despair, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: Dean plays over what didn't happen. He didn't reach out, he didn't say it back, he didn't get to hold Castiel. When Sam and Jack make it back, though, Sam brings hope with him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	the way it goes

**Here’s what doesn’t happen:**  
Cas smiles and laughs through his tears and says, “You changed me, Dean.”

There’s a beat of uncertainty but through it, Dean steps forward. He walks towards Cas. This is an angel of the Lord who followed him from Hell, who came when he called and betrayed his trust and earned it back. An angel who gave up an army, a Host, his Grace, the favor of his brothers and sisters, all for Dean. So Dean steps forward and hesitantly puts a hand to Cas’s waist. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?” he asks.

“Because it is.” Cas voice shakes and shatters and he leans into Dean’s touch. He presses one hand, palm bloody, to Dean’s shoulder and cups it there. “I love you,” he says, and it’s sure and strong. They’re called love confessions but this feels more like an absolution, like a benediction. 

Dean can feel the press of Cas’s hand as he tries to push him away, out of the way, because there’s a teeming wall of void that’s opened behind them but Dean holds his ground.

They meet in the middle, Dean holding Cas at his waist and the collar of his trench coat and kissing him like he needs it to breath. He can feel the shudder-shock of Cas’s breath in the kiss, shaky inhale to clipped exhale. There are tears on Cas’s cheeks pressing into his own and Dean, stupidly, thinks, I’ve never seen him cry. He’s seen Cas’s blue eyes go glassy and red, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen them spill over.

One of his hands moves to cradle the back of Cas’s head, fingers in that fucking hair of his and when Cas breaks the kiss, Dean holds him there, keeps him close. Their noses bump, foreheads brush, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s crying or if it’s just Cas’s tears on his face. “Don’t do this, Cas,” he says and it’s begging. _I’m not one for praying because in my books it’s the same as begging._ “Please. Castiel.”

Before he knows what’s happening, cold air rushes to fill the space that was once Cas. Dean sees just the edges of the Empty’s tendrils, black and shimmering and all-consuming. He turns on the balls of his feet just in time to watch the rift against the wall close up. 

**Here’s what doesn’t happen:**  
Cas tells him that it is a goodbye and Dean shakes his head, hard. “No,” he counters, “No. This isn’t happening.” And he puts himself in Cas’s space, curves his hand around the back of his neck. He holds him there and meets his eyes, like he had with Jack, just a few months ago. “You’re family, Cas. We don’t give up on family, even if looks like there’s nothing left.”

“Dean–”

But Dean rushes to cut him off. “I love you,” he says and he can feel his cheeks getting hot, his throat thickening. “Okay? Cas. I love you. And I need you here. Cas, please.” 

Cas smiles, beatific, and Dean can’t help but think that he’s beautiful, incandescent. An angel of the Lord, here with him. “I love you too, Dean,” he says and he’s smiling, the tone in his voice is almost laughter. “Please remember that. I’ve loved you, all this time.” He presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder and Dean remembers, for a brief moment, Hell. He remembers Cas reaching down and pulling him out.

When the Empty reaches out, when it takes Cas, Dean isn’t ready. He screams and dives for the eddying mass of nothing but you can’t put your hands on something that isn’t. The wall closes back to its industrial brick and Dean is alone, pounding until his knuckles split.

 **Here’s what happens:**  
Sam is feral with worry as they make the near eight-hour drive back to the bunker. Jack has his phone, calling everyone Sam can think of between trying Dean and Cas over and over again. Dean’s phone keeps ringing out to his voicemail. The calls to Cas drop as soon as they get placed. 

The car is still running, thrown into park at an angle up against the bunker’s entrance and once they’re inside, both Jack and Sam are screaming for Dean and Cas. Sam is sure that he’s going to find Dean’s phone on the floor, shattered, with all those messages and calls collecting, just like Eileen’s. He doesn’t know what to expect of Cas.

He and Jack end up skittering into the basement together, trailing a ragged, scorched scratch-mark on the wall. And then, they find him.

“Dean!” Sam shouts and slides to his knees. He takes his brother’s face in his hands and makes him meet his eyes. Dean’s chest is working, eyes wet and red and Sam’s heart sputters. “What the hell happened, man?” He handles Dean gently because he thinks he has an idea. Thumbs come up, to brush away the tears, like Dean always did for him when they were kids, when they weren’t kids.

“Cas is gone,” Dean gasps out. “He’s gone, he’s really gone.” And he pitches forward, shaking. His fingers bite into Sam’s shoulders so hard he’s sure there will be bruises and all Sam can do is cradle his brother to his chest.

Jack drops to the floor, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder and letting out his own grief. Through it all, Sam sits and holds his brother, puts his hand to the back of their kid’s head and tries to keep them all together.

It takes awhile. He has to coax Dean to his feet and then up into the kitchen - his brother looks like a man possessed, like a ghost, like a ghoul, like something already dead. Jack follows him like a lost duckling, trailing behind Sam as he settles Dean at the table and then makes coffee because it’s something he knows how to do.

“Dean,” he says softly, once they’re all sitting together with steaming mugs. “You gotta tell us what happened.” And he knows, he understands. He remembers just yesterday - _God, was it only yesterday_ \- how it felt to know that if you say it, if you acknowledge it, your whole world will fall apart and you’ll be useless. I can’t go there. But they need to know, so they can make a plan.

It comes out in halting spirals, in between whining breaths and deep shudders. More than once, Dean trails toward guilt, toward shame, toward _I should have done something, why didn’t I do anything_. Sam redirects him as firmly as he can manage.

He’s known about Cas’s feelings for years - in fact, he’s pretty sure Cas had only just discovered it himself when he came to Sam. They didn’t talk about it often but when they did, Cas was gingerly ecstatic at just being near Dean, just sharing space with him. He would have been content to follow Dean through the rest of his life without having said a word.

When Dean finishes, tells them that the Empty took Cas and Billie disappeared, he folds his arms on the table and buries his head. Jack, sitting next to him, puts a hand to his arm and fits his face into Dean’s shoulder. Sam watches as, slowly, Dean shifts one hand to cover Jack’s.

Sam lets them have a moment, let’s them mourn and revel in the mourning, but then he dips his head and says, “Dean, this is good.”

His brother picks his head up so fast he almost brains Jack.

“It’s the Empty,” Sam rushes to explain. “We know how it works. We know what it wants. We know exactly where Cas is and how to get there.”

Dean blinks through new tears tessellating his lashes. “You… You mean get him back?” His voice is shot to hell and it breaks when he says him, like he was going to say Cas’s name. But for the first time since they split up last night, Sam thinks he sees something like hope blossom over Dean.

“I mean get him back.”

Dean didn’t tell Sam, word for word, what Cas said but Sam has always known that his brother operates from love. He was the kid, after all, who Dean raised. Dean wiped his tears and kissed his skinned knees and proofread his essays and taught him about cars and girls and drinking and their father. Sam is alive and the person he is today because of Dean’s love.

So it’s tragic and terrible and it hurts. He hurts for his brother and Jack, he hurts for Cas and Eileen and Donna and everyone else, but he’s also, suddenly, alive with the gift that Chuck and the Empty have given them.

Sam watches as Dean realizes it in degrees. He straightens his shoulders back and wipes a hand down his face. He looks to Jack and, so tenderly, reaches out to clear away his tears too. And then, Sam watches as his brother smiles. “Hell yes, we’re gonna get him back.” Dean watches Jack until the kid tries for a smile and then he turns to Sam and he sees there’s a smile already there.

The thing that Chuck doesn’t understand, that the Empty can’t understand, is everything the Winchesters have ever done, has been family. And it’s been for love. So taking these cosmic entities out with _love_ as the power chord running under their mission…

Well, let’s just say _they’ve got work to do_.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable here!](https://joharvele.tumblr.com/post/634239942659358720/a-coda-of-sorts-for-1518-despair-major-huge)


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